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Exhausted and disillusioned and unexpectedly liquid, Captain Tilon Quill sat down to play pazaak. He got dealt his hand and wagered a hundred Underworld Credits.
"Oh, a friend of mine made some good points about the child..." He ran into the limits of his Chadra-Fan and used the Basic word. "Indoctrination. One more."
“Yeah. I hear they can’t even. You know,” the Chadra-Fan gave him a look, “Not allowed. Probably why they’re so self-righteous and angry all the time. Just need to go to Ryloth find a nice Twi’lek or something. House hits.”
The wildly unprofessional dealer looked up from the cards. “You like Twi’leks?”
Jedi sexuality was not a topic Tilon felt like broaching tonight. He'd likely never stop.
Tilon put down his cards. He held up his hands as if cradling a posterior or outlining two halves of a planet famously tidally locked. "Hot and cold the duality of Ryloth," he said in Huttese. "Stand."
“Uhh,” the Chadra-Fan, who had never actually been to Ryloth and certainly never read up on on its gravitational positioning - not what he liked about the place on the holonet, squeaked.